Asyndeton (a-syn’-de-ton): The omission of conjunctions between clauses, often resulting in a hurried rhythm or vehement effect. [Compare brachylogia. Opposite of polysyndeton.]
It was raining like crazy: slip, slop, slip, slop, slip slop my windshield wipers said as I splashed through puddles driving too fast. My mother was taking care of my dog Roofrack. If I was late she would yell at me like I was a bad dog, which actually, was Roofrack’s role in life. He specialized in peeing on chair legs and eating shoes. I thought of having him euthanized, but aside from his two bad habits, he was fun to spend time with. So, I got him his own pair of shoes and his own chair that I keep in the bathtub. When he stays with my mother, I bring along his shoes and chair.
I snapped out of my reverie when I noticed I was skidding off the side of the road into a cornfield. When my car came to rest, I was surrounded by cornstalks loaded with corn. Despite the rain, I decided to pick some—maybe fill the car’s trunk. I got out of the car, opened the trunk and started picking and pitching corn in the trunk. I was soaked, but I didn’t care.
I jumped in my car, started it up, and put it in gear. The tires spun in the mud. I kept pressing on the gas and the car sunk deeper and deeper in the mud. Suddenly, the car just started to sink on its own. It was engulfed by a cloud red smoke. I was totally panic stricken—my cell phone stopped working and I could feel it getting warmer and warmer inside my car. Suddenly, I fell out of the sky and landed softly on a giant paved parking lot extending for miles in every direction.
A scarecrow slowly rose from underground. He said, “What do you have in your trunk? Open it!” I opened it, and there it was full of stolen corn. He said, “Look around you. Miles, miles, miles, miles of paved- over earth, suffocating everything underneath it: no corn, no fields of green. Stealing corn is a start in that direction. Now, get out of here!”
My car rose like an express elevator. I emerged, on the highway like nothing had happened. I looked in my rear view mirror and got a glimpse of the Scarecrow standing in the rain, shaking his straw fist at me. A shiver went down my spine.
I pulled up to my mom’s and got out to pick up Roofrack. Mom opened the door, and there was Roofrack! After peeing on my mother’s leg, he came running to me. After all that happened, I didn’t feel up to admonishing him. I just said “Bad dog” and tried to apologize to my mother. She slammed the door.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)
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